Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

”Open it,” Tonbo urged. ”Your uncle prepared an incomparable gift.” 

He sat across from Ino at the Yamanaka home. A small decorated box rested before her, while Inoichi and the girl’s mother watched from nearby. 

Ino remembered the flowers Tonbo had created during their previous meeting. She rubbed her hands together, closed her eyes in a moment of childish ceremony, and lifted the lid. 

Soft packing fiber covered the object. She pushed it aside and found two handwoven figures joined at the base. One represented Tonbo with his palm resting on the head of a much smaller Ino. 

Her anticipation collapsed. 

”This is the incomparable gift?” 

She had expected flowers or something equally beautiful. The stiff little copy of the bandaged man patting her head seemed designed mainly to please him. 

Inoichi and his wife laughed. 

”Ino,” her mother said, ”Tonbo brought you a birthday present. Do not be rude.” 

”But it looks strange. I do not like it.” 

”You underestimate it,” Tonbo said. ”This is a shinobi tool made personally by a jōnin.” 

Inoichi raised an eyebrow. He had never heard Tonbo claim expertise in toolmaking. 

”When you are old enough to mold chakra,” Tonbo continued, ”you only need to supply a little. Watch.” 

He formed a seal and touched the base. Color spread across the woven fibers as both figures came to life. They smiled beneath the astonished eyes of the family. 

The transformation was more refined than the simple figure Tonbo gave Sasuke. Tiny joints allowed the pair to turn their heads and move their arms, while implanted memories controlled a short performance. Inoichi sensed the careful chakra structure beneath the joke and recognized how much work the gift had required. 

The small Ino spoke first. ”Uncle Tonbo is the most handsome man in the world.” 

The Tonbo figure answered, ”Little Ino is the most adorable girl in the world.” 

They repeated the exchange until the stored chakra ran out and both became motionless. 

Ino stared. The second statement was obviously correct. The first transformed an impressive trick into evidence that Tonbo possessed no shame. 

Even Inoichi’s smile became strained. It was undeniably a functioning shinobi tool, though perhaps not one the village needed. 

”Once you learn chakra control,” Tonbo said, ”the most handsome uncle in the world can speak to you every day.” 

At her mother’s encouraging look, Ino accepted the figure. ”I will keep it. Do not give me another one next year.” 

She intended to store the gift safely because Tonbo had made it for her. She also intended never to activate it where anyone could hear. 

Her resolve lasted until Tonbo left the room. Ino supplied the smallest amount of chakra she could manage with her father’s help and watched the figures repeat their exchange. She covered the Tonbo figure’s mouth during his line, then laughed when the little Ino continued praising herself without interruption. 

Tonbo left satisfied. Sasuke must treasure the miniature Itachi just as much. 

At the Uchiha compound, Sasuke watched his brother depart on another mission after dismissing him with a forehead tap. The boy retrieved the woven Itachi from his bag. 

”You never stay and play.” 

He turned the figure upside down and tickled the bottom of its foot as punishment. Frequent handling had polished the fibers until they were smooth beneath his fingers. 

The bad man at the gate was irritating, but his craftsmanship was useful. Sasuke wanted several more versions of his brother in different poses. He only needed money from Mikoto and an address for Tonbo. 

Days passed. Ayame’s belly grew, and Tonbo shifted more work to Shadow Clones so his original body could remain near home. His physical development and accumulated mental strength had increased his chakra reserves enough that maintaining the clones no longer disrupted ordinary training. 

By his estimate, his reserves stood roughly one quarter below Hiruzen’s. The additional chakra allowed longer experiments, more repetitions, and faster development of techniques. Mature shinobi often seemed to improve suddenly because a stronger body could sustain training that exhausted an adolescent. 

Tonbo’s advantage was not merely volume. Shadow Clone transferred memory and fatigue when released, allowing several bodies to perform different kinds of mental work before the original consolidated the results. Excessive use would still overwhelm him, so he divided tasks carefully and dismissed clones at intervals rather than all at once. 

Tonbo still needed Hiruzen’s approval. The Analysis Team and Barrier Development Team handled work too important to delegate secretly; discovery would damage trust even if every report remained accurate. 

He presented the request formally: Ayame’s pregnancy had entered a stage where she needed him nearby, and he proposed using Shadow Clones for scheduled office work unless a situation required his original body. 

Hiruzen understood immediately. A member of his own family expected a child around the same period, and Tonbo’s clones possessed enough judgment to manage routine analysis. He approved the arrangement with the condition that Tonbo respond personally to emergencies and sensitive decisions. 

The Hokage also required secure reports to be reviewed after clone memories returned. A copy could analyze evidence, but the accountable officer remained Tonbo himself. Barrier experiments involving dangerous loads likewise required his original body unless Tetsugan explicitly certified a routine test. 

Tonbo followed the agreement. A clone remained with Ayame when he had to attend an office in person; another could process ordinary team work while the original trained. He never left both positions to copies without oversight. 

On one such day, Tonbo walked toward Training Ground 98. Family and leadership had changed his schedule, not the need to maintain his own skill. Regular practice prevented small weaknesses from becoming permanent ones. 

Movement whispered inside the bushes near the field. 

Three Academy students crouched among the leaves with a small dog beside them. 

”Are you certain he comes here?” one whispered. ”What if your information is wrong?” 

”I earned full marks in intelligence. He trains here every day and has practiced music recently.” 

”Why would a shinobi want to become a musician?” 

”It does not matter. We need to strike him because Iruka-sensei’s technique is his fault.” 

Their leader repeated the plan. They would appear harmless, use their age to lower Tonbo’s guard, and attack at close range. One student had even read a child-psychology book in the library to improve the performance. 

They had spent two afternoons gathering evidence. Tonbo’s arrival time varied slightly, but the training ground, route, and harmonica case remained consistent. The older student drew a map, assigned signals, and insisted that no one rush before the false request for help placed their target within reach. 

”I will ask for a hug,” the youngest said. ”When he lifts me, I hit his face. You two stamp on his feet.” 

Two members belonged to Iruka’s second-year class; the older planner came from the third year. Shared punishment had overcome differences in age and clan. 

They settled deeper into concealment, unaware that the sensor approaching the field had already heard every word. 

Tonbo slowed outside their view and counted three small chakra signatures plus the dog. None carried enough hostility to represent a real assassination attempt. The whispered plan explained the rest and offered a far more entertaining beginning to training than an empty field. 

He approached as though he had noticed absolutely nothing waiting among the bushes.